


The First Morning of a New Chapter

by TheStrangeSeaWolf



Series: The Hour Continued [2]
Category: The Hour (TV)
Genre: Breakfast, F/M, Fluff, POV Randall Brown, Seeing the world with a fresh pair of eyes, Smile, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Watching Someone Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:28:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26158057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStrangeSeaWolf/pseuds/TheStrangeSeaWolf
Summary: After the events of"One More Night"Lix is asleep but Randall is keeping the watch, lost in his own thoughts...
Relationships: Randall Brown/Lix Storm
Series: The Hour Continued [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2013298
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	The First Morning of a New Chapter

He was standing with his cup of tea in the bedroom door. Lix had fallen asleep but he had decided that for him, it didn’t make too much sense to do the same. They had to get up in two hours to go to work. He knew himself well enough to know that he would be more tired and grouchy if he just had two hours of sleep instead of none. 

His time was much better spent leaning against the doorframe, allowing himself the luxury of unabashedly staring at the most beautiful woman in the world. Well, to him, she was. Always had been. She was simply perfect. Her hair, her eyebrows, her nose, her full lips, her perfectly symmetrical collarbones, the little nearly triangular birthmark on her right upper arm, two inches beneath her shoulder, her elegant curves… if he were a poet, he would write a whole anthology just about the fine lines on her face and the way they told the story of one of the bravest and kindest women he knew. But, alas, he was just a journalist, forced and accustomed to just writing and editing facts.

The facts, however, were amazing and confusing at the same time.

He still couldn’t believe she had agreed to marry him. After so many years he had first hoped in vain, then given up hope, she had said “yes”. She wanted _him_ to become her husband. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with _him_. With this quirky, compulsive, strange idiot he was.

This wouldn’t be easy. He wasn’t naive. 

There was… working together. What would the BBC think of a married couple on their news team? Maybe they would try to separate them, forcing one of them to quit. If this happened, he would of course resign. Lix had the older rights. He would find something else. But it would be a pity, they were at their absolute best when they could inspire each other. He knew that their productivity would only improve now that their relationship intensified. And the team was basically their family. He could only hope that he had led _The Hour_ successfully enough he could weigh in on that matter, forcing management to keep them both. 

The other possibility was keeping their marriage secret. But he didn’t like that idea. He wanted to shout it from the rooftops already if he was honest with himself. He wanted to proudly say that it was _his_ Lix who was the most brilliant head of foreign desk the world had ever seen. And he doubted that he would be _able_ to keep it secret. He always had been a bad liar and he was sure the whole team would recognize that something was off, that something in their relationship had shifted. They all were quirky and had their own troubles, but they were not stupid. None of them, not even Hector. He could already imagine the knowing looks and the exchange of glances…

Then, there was her drinking problem. For him, it had been easy to quit the alcohol. He had been motivated by the hope of turning his life around. And then, setting a rule and sticking to it was an integral part of his personality. For Lix, however… well, she was headstrong, so perhaps, when she set her mind on it, there was a chance. He really hoped she would quit.

Then… Would she want to give up her flat… and move in here? Or should they look for something new, something without any shadows from the past? Or were they both too used to living on their own that it worked better if they kept separate flats? If it was just on him… he wanted to fall asleep in her arms and wake up next to her every day. But would she want that? Or did she need more space, more independence? Would she feel hemmed in because he needed to be in control of all the little things in a flat? She was a bit chaotic and he needed his secure, well-organized spaces that were exactly right, exactly aligned, exactly like they meant to be… Definitely something they needed to talk about.

But not _now_. 

She looked so peaceful, tight asleep, hopefully lost in comforting dreams where everything was alright. 

He felt the urge to go back to bed, wrap himself around her from behind, feeling her strong shoulders against his chest, her buttocks against his hips… putting his arm around her, either letting his hand rest on one of her beautiful, round, warm breasts or on her lovely, soft, sensitive belly. Maybe caressing it a bit, cautiously, without waking her up. Letting his nose rest in her hair, for sure. Maybe letting himself be carried away to peaceful dreams, or gently kissing her awake, letting his hand crawl into hers, intertwining their fingers… 

He felt that this inevitably would lead to them coming late to work, so he sighed and decided to prepare a nice breakfast for them instead. 

He went to the kitchen and put a new tablecloth on the table. He didn’t care too much for breakfast on weekdays, usually just drinking two cups of tea in the morning before heading to work, instead enjoying an extensive lunch. But he recalled that breakfast was important to her and that they often took it together in Spain.

He set the table, surprised how many ingredients for a continental breakfast he could find. He rectified the plates a second time so they were perfectly symmetrical and took a step back. Yes, he created the illusion of a hotel breakfast in Barcelona, Madrid or Paris. He hoped Lix would appreciate the reminiscence. He critically observed the sad, half-empty packet of toast. No, this was not fitting for the occasion… Lix deserved better… He took a look at his watch. Half past six. The bakery just around the corner was already open. 

He tiptoed to the bedroom to grab his clothes from the valet and his shoes from under the bed. There was a soft sound from Lix. He held his breath, fearing he had woken her up. But her eyes were still closed. She just gave a small smack and snuggled deeper into her pillow. Still asleep. Maybe dreaming. He wanted to place a kiss on her head but decided against it. She should wake up to the smell of fresh croissants and coffee. Maybe even serve her the breakfast in bed? Why not?

He sneaked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen to get dressed. 

When the door clicked in the lock behind him, he realized that this was the first time since the war that he left a house in the morning without a shower and in the clothes he wore the day before. To his surprise, he didn’t mind.

As he strolled down the street, feeling a bit tipsy from being awake for more than twenty-four hours, he wondered if the window dressings had always been this colorful, if there had always been little plants growing in the uneven cracks of the pavement, and if there had always been birds singing in the trees. 

Then, he realized his face felt funny. It took him a moment until he recognized what it was.

_He was smiling._


End file.
